


CYCLE | ✓

by sailormoan



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Crime Fighting, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Gotham City - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailormoan/pseuds/sailormoan
Summary: Quorra left the Grid to live in the real world and cannot comprehend how Gotham can be so unsafe. She runs into some trouble with some homeless thugs, only to be saved by a mysterious vigilante.[ tron legacy meets the batman world]
Relationships: Jason Todd/Quorra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	CYCLE | ✓

Gotham’s newest vigilante sat on the edge of the bridge, her feet dangling, as she singsonged to one of the commercials she had heard earlier that day on the television. Gotham at night was something close to the Grid, a place she was very familiar with. Not particularly a place she missed, but a place that she was very familiar with. 

In her hand, she toyed with a device that she still had trouble learning how to use. It was supposed to make communication better, but to be frank, talking face to face has always been more pleasant. And knowing that the only person who could contact her was going to be Alan Bradley broke her heart a bit. 

A small light emanated from the screen, and she could read the name of the latter. As soon as the melody began playing, the telephone vibrated in her hands. She quickly placed the telephone against her ear: “Hello? HELLO?” The screen didn’t change. Quorra spoke louder, hoping the person would hear it. And finally, the light shut down, a message saying “1 Missed Call - Alan Bradley ENCOM.”

She sighed to herself, slightly frustrated at her own incapacity at understanding it. Nothing in Reality was like in the Grid. To Sam, the Grid was an advanced future, even a world that could be shaped at will to create new possibilities. To Quorra, the Grid lacked many of the beautiful things on Earth. Like sunset. That was why she was standing on the bridge: she came to see the sunset.

Picking herself up, she moved her legs back on the ground and prepared to leave the bridge, hands in her pockets. _Gotham city at night looked like the Grid_ , she repeated to herself. She hummed under her breath the song from that commercial she saw earlier that morning as she made her way toward Sam’s place. Since he has been gone, Quorra was under the care of Alan Bradley. He became the new Kevin Flynn to her, almost like a father, and despite his lack of patience, he always found the time to spend time with her and teach her about things on Earth. Recently, he taught her how to buy things at the store and how taxes worked. The concept of taxes was still foreign to her.

She felt the phone in her pocket vibrate again, and she quickly placed it against her ear as soon as she read the name Alan Bradley, but of course, nothing happened again this time either. She puffed and told herself she will speak directly to him, face to face. He will understand that she had not figured out how to use the device.

She got off the edge of the bridge and headed toward ENCOM, where she was going to find her guardian. The company building was visible from miles away, with its bright sign standing above all. Would Alan be there, waiting for her, if she were to head there? He had told her that most people left their work when it was night, but in the Grid, it was always night-time. Maybe she could walk there? All she had to do was cross the bridge, make her way down the streets of downtown Gotham, and maybe that should take her an hour on foot? She had begged Alan to provide her with one of those cycles which she had because they were particularly useful to move around but he had told her that she needed a sort of permit to use one and it would be a hassle to fill in paperwork. That was another flaw of Reality: everyone had to be aware of what you were doing with your money, what you were driving, which weapons you carried.

After having crossed the bridge and arrived on land, she made a turn on a perpendicular street. Under the bridge, she could see men in miserable allure standing around a fire coming from a trash can. They spotted her and so she showed them the nicest smile she could. Kevin Flynn has always complimented her smile, saying she was like a ray of sunshine, which made her happy because she has read so many books where they described the sun and for her to be compared to it meant the world. “Hey, cutie, com’ here”

She deviated from her path and walked to them. All three men seemed equally surprised that Quorra had walked to meet them. That trick never worked on anyone. “Hello! It is nice to meet you!” she said, extending a hand at them.

They looked at her up and down. Aside from the eccentric asymmetrical haircut, leather jacket and dark clothes, she seemed to be totally normal. Perhaps not normal in the head, they thought. They hesitated, but each of them shook her hand. Quorra noticed their dirty, unkempt nails, gloves that had holes in them and that have not been washed in a long time. She smiled despite that, keeping her thoughts and opinions to herself.

“Ya’ got any money?” one of them asked.

“I think I do, yes.”

And she opened her vest and pulled out of a picket two different green bills. No wallet. And a pocket filled with coins. They looked at each other, wondering to themselves if she was filthy rich or simply out of her mind.

“I have this one right here,” she showed a bill with a ‘one dollar’ written on it’, “and I also have this one”, she showed another one that said ‘fifty dollars.”I think you should take this one,” Quorra showed them the latter, “I find the man to be less handsome than the other one.”

Dumbfounded. That was the word to describe how the homeless men were. Did she see more of a value in bills based on how handsome the man on it was? One of them was about to argue when his friend elbowed him. They ended up accepting the fifty dollar bill and thanking her, glad she was stupid enough to do that. As soon as she left and had her back turned, they looked at the bill through the light emanated by the fire to make sure it was a real one indeed. 

Quorra walked away from them, a happy smile on her face. She thought to herself that she had made a good bargain and a good deed at the same time. Alan would be proud of her. She was finally getting the hang of everything.

She kept walking, hands in her pockets and rolling the coins in between her fingers. They had a strange smell of metal which often imprinted herself on her skin and she disliked that. Humming to herself that same song from that commercial she saw on television, she kept walking under the streetlights that lit the avenue. Alan told her to avoid certain areas of Gotham because they were the most dangerous, but Quorra never had any business there anyway, so she was not worried about getting in trouble.

She had not paid attention to the homeless men walking about twenty meters behind her. Did they have a business to attend to? Places to be? Perhaps they could walk together until their paths diverged. She looked over her shoulder and saw the mean expression on their face. Was it a bad sign?

“HEY!” one of them called out for her. “Baby girl!”

“Sweetheart!”

She stopped from her tracks. She had never been called by those nicknames before. She was getting mixed signals. Was it supposed to be affectionate? But with a mean expression on their face. She slowed down and spun on her heels to face them. The man in the middle instantly put his hand on her throat and pushed her against a wall. The physical shock and the element of surprise made her squeal. She put her hands on his hand, trying to peel it off her neck. Was he not happy with the bill she gave him? Did he want the other one? 

“Ya think this is a fuckin’ joke?”

“Did you want the bill with the most handsome man instead? We can exchange it.” His grip tightened around her throat as she said that.

“Tell me who you work for.”

She made weird facial expressions. Was he expecting her to talk when he would not let her breathe? He let go very slightly of her, enough for air to pass to her lungs, and insisted with ‘huh??’

“I can’t work! Alan said I need a permit to do that, so instead, he gives me money in case I need any, like to take a taxi to get back home for instance.” 

“Alan? Who?”

The homeless men looked at each other in confusion. There was no supervillain named Alan. Was this man her father or her lover, they asked themselves.

A strong force suddenly pulled the man holding her back. The two other homeless men looked behind and saw a man standing on a motorcycle. Their eyes widened as they realized who that man was.

  
“Causing trouble, boys?” a voice muffled by the red mask spoke. 

Quorra looked at the man with the red helmet, then at the two homeless men. She grabbed the first man by the arm and twisted it behind his back, then she kicked him behind the knee. The first man fell on the ground. She then used his body to support herself and throw her legs in the air. She wrapped her ankles around the second man’s neck and made him fall to the ground.

  
Hurt and scared, they made a run for it, one of them was bleeding from his nose and kept his sleeve on his face to stop the bleeding. 

Quorra watched them run into the distance, making a turn on a street. She giggled to herself. “I am so happy I did not need to use the Disks. They are low on battery anyway.”

She looked at the man, still on his motorcycle. There was a brief moment of silence and with a big smile, she told him: “good job! Thank you so much!”

She was impressed by his fighting skills. He had not moved from his cycle and he managed to knock unconscious the homeless man who held her captive. She watched him pass one leg over the vehicle and approach her. “You… seem awfully in a good mood after what happened to you.”

“I am always happy to meet new people.”

There was another moment of silence where he stared at her. She hoped he would take off his helmet, and see the man behind the mask, but she only saw her own reflection in the polished surface of the helmet.

Finally, the man spoke: “You’re a cutie. What are you doing in the streets like that at night?”

A big smile came across her lips. Finally, Quorra met someone who was going to be able to help her and perhaps even make a friend of him.

“I’m Quorra,” she extended her hand to him as Kevin Flynn taught her a long time ago. The individual hesitated in shaking her head. She had a feeling he was smiling behind the helmet. Or maybe he was laughing.

“Red Hood, pleased to meet you.”

That was an odd name, she thought to herself. Was that really his true name? Perhaps it has been given to him by others, who have seen his mask.

“Sorry… I did not know we were going to use a fake name. The fact is that I have not thought of one for myself.”

He laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t tell if you are stupid or just clueless about the fact that Gotham is dangerous at night.”

“Hey! It’s not nice to call people stupid!” she frowned at him.

“Sorry.”

Quorra looked behind him, at his cycle. She would have said something about wanting one of her own but decided against it. Red Hood noticed that Quorra seemed to like it. With a head movement, he caught back her attention and said: “Alright, can I at least take you home now? It is getting very late and I would not want to leave you walking the streets of Gotham alone at night.”

“Of course!”

He climbed back on his cycle and from the small trunk, he picked up a red helmet, but that one was completely different from his, with a small window for the eyes. He tossed it at her and she caught it in mid-air. She looked at the red in his helmet and the red in her own, and at the small red details on his cycle. It seemed to be his signature colour. 

“Climb behind me,” he instructed her.

She smiled. A cycle. Not the one she could find in the Grid, but it was sleek and very masculine. She jogged to him and passed a leg over the vehicle. He waited for her to sit comfortably and to put her helmet on. She then wrapped her arms around him and held him firmly. 

“You know, hasn’t your father taught you to not climb on a vehicle with strangers? You know … Stranger, danger.”

“We are not strangers. I know your name is Red Hood and you know my name is Quorra.”

He sighed. “That was… not a logical argument at all… How often do you get yourself in trouble? Wait, nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t care.”

Quorra giggled. The Red Hood started the engine when suddenly, Quorra said 'wait!' He allowed her to get off the motorcycle and watched her as she jogged toward the unconscious homeless man. Looking through his pockets, looting the body. She picked up her fifty dollar bill which she had given him and returned to Red Hood, visibly happy. "Is that my tip for saving you tonight and taking you home?" He asked. He quickly took the bill from her hand and kept it out of reach.

"Give it back!" she giggled. The Red Hood gave her the bill back and told her to hurry up. She secured her helmet over her head and wrapped her arms around his waist. "We may go now," she beamed.

"Alright. Let's get you home, kiddo."


End file.
